“Myra.”

“Myyyrrraaaa.”

“Myra!”

“Whaaaat? It’s early Liam. Let me sleep a little longer…”

As Myra’s head began to descend back towards her pillow, a tan arm snaked past her face to snatch it out from under her.

*Whump*

The pillow smacked against Myra’s legs.

“Come on! Up up up!”

*Whump*

The pillow struck again.

With a defiant groan, Myra pulled her blankets higher, attempting to cower beneath them.

*Whump*

The final strike smacked solidly into the side of her face.

“Ouch,” came Myra’s muffled reply.

With another groan, Myra finally relented, sitting up and waving off Liam’s incoming fourth pillow attack.

“Okay, okay, I’m up. What are you doing here so early Liam?”

“You promised to help me set the stall up for tomorrow! Don’t tell me you forgot already?”

“The festival? No, I remember. But for gods’ sakes Liam, the festival doesn’t begin until tomorrow evening, why are you waking me up at the crack of dawn?”

“Real estate! Hurry up, Myra! If we don’t get to the festival grounds soon, all the good spots will be taken.”

“People really get there this early just for good spots?”

“Of course they do! It’s Hollow Night. Everyone wants those prime spots right near the graveyards so they can sell stuff to everyone who’s awake all night.”

“You included.”

“Darn right.”

With an over-exaggerated sigh, Myra swung her legs off her bed and stood up, shivering at the chilly morning air. Looking down, she grunted as she realized that she had fallen asleep last night still wearing her day clothes. With a shrug, she walked towards the door and stopped to tug on a pair of worn boots.

“All right then, I suppose I can help you a bit. But you’re buying me lunch, alright?”

But Liam was already out the door, running through the kitchen and out the back.

“Maybe I will!” he shouted back at her. “But only if you beat me to the grounds!”

Myra couldn’t help but smile as she raced out after him. Liam had a good head start, but she quickly made up the distance. The two raced towards town, with Myra slowly beginning to pull ahead before Liam finally gave up and sprawled on the side of the road, chest heaving.

“I swear…” Liam’s words came between great gulps of air. “One of these days I’m going to beat you.”

“Ha. I doubt it,” Myra said as she sat down beside him. “Kicking your butt in races is my specialty.”

“Pfft. Come on that one was closer than last time and you know it.”

Myra’s attention, however, had drifted from their conversation and to their surroundings. Despite the early hour, plenty of people seemed to be making their way into town. Dozens were leaving the comfort of their homes and braving the chill fall morning for…something.

“What’s with them?” Myra asked, indicating the crowd.

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Liam glanced over and looked puzzled for a moment before coming to a realization.

“Oh. I bet they’re heading to the square. Old man Millard is getting the drop today.”

Myra glanced quickly back at Liam, suddenly feeling an urge not to stare at the passerby anymore.

“Oh geez. Was that today? How horrible.”

Liam shrugged. “I mean, not really. The crazy old codger did murder his wife. I think he’s getting what’s coming to him.”

Myra shrugged in turn and gave a noncommittal grunt before glancing back towards the town square.

“Do you suppose the Storyteller will be there?” she asked.

“What? The new one? Yeah, I guess so. They’re required to have one, right? Even if he isn’t getting recorded.”

Myra nodded and gazed thoughtfully ahead.

“Do you think we should go watch?” she said.

“Huh? Since when do you ever want to go watch a hanging? Besides, we need to hurry over to the festival grounds. We’re going to be late already.”

“If we’re already late, then what’s the harm in going and taking a peek?” Myra responded.

Liam looked at her with a confused expression.

“You really want to go watch? Why the sudden interest? You never wanted to go when I suggested it before.”

Myra shrugged again before answering as nonchalantly as she could.

“I don’t know. I’m just curious, I guess. I mean, I’ve never seen an execution before. Or a story burning either.”

Liam’s expression grew suspicious, but, eventually, he relented.

“Fine. Go watch if you really want to. I’m going to go ahead and try to grab a spot before they’re all gone. Just come find me after it’s over, okay?”

“Okay!” Myra said, already jogging away towards the center of town.

Liam scoffed and shook his head.

“Weirdo,” he mumbled under his breath.

__

As Myra neared the town square, she was surprised to see how large the crowd gathered at the foot of the gallows had already grown. Pulling her woolen cap a little more snugly over her head, she began to thread her way through, hoping she could push far enough to the front to catch a glimpse of the proceedings.

Already, the booming voice of the town crier could be heard sounding over the muted the whispers of the crowd.

“Today we mark a solemn occasion! Today we punish someone who has violated the laws handed down by the gods themselves to the great King!”

The noise among the crowd immediately ceased at the sound of the crier’s voice.

“Bring forth the convicted!”

Myra watched as a hunched and miserable looking figure stumbled forward onto the raised platform. Immediately, a fresh wave of murmurs and whispers began to emanate from the crowd. Despite his nickname among the children in town, old man Millard wasn’t actually that old. Myra thought he might be a little older than her father, but certainly younger than Mr. Roam.

Even as she thought this, she caught sight of the old Storyteller walking up the stairs at the opposite end of the platform. Roam waited a moment for the noise of the crowd to fade before speaking to the shackled man.

“Flynn Millard. You have been accused and found guilty of the murder of your wife.”

Myra struggled to hear Roam’s soft voice and again began to push her way towards the front.

“As follows the laws of the gods, you have been sentenced to death.”

The figure before Roam did not react to the pronouncement, preferring instead to stare at the boards forming the floor.

“Furthermore, due to the nature of the crime and your lack of remorse for your actions, the council of this city has decided that you will be given the harshest of punishments.”

At this, the figure’s arms began to shake, but still, he refused to meet Roam’s gaze.

“Millard,” Roam said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You have been sentenced to become one of the Lost. Your story has been recorded but will not be passed to the Afterlife.”

As he said this, Roam reached into his robes and brought forth a slim book bound in leather. Finally, Millard raised his head to stare at the tome clutched in Roam’s hand. Myra shivered as she saw the expression on the prisoner’s face.

Terror.

She looked away.

Roam, however, kept his gaze focused solely on the man in front of him. With a wave of his hand, he signaled the crier who took hold of a torch and bent to light the small bonfire constructed on the cobblestone in front of the platform.

The crowd waited in tense silence as the fire took hold and began to build. When the flames grew higher and a black trail of smoke curled its way into the sky, Roam finally turned his face from Millard. With slow and deliberate movements, he walked to the edge of the platform and reached out over the gap.

And dropped the book into the flames.

*Thud*

Millard collapsed to his knees, tears streaming freely down his face as he stared into the fiery branches. His arms shook uncontrollably, and he did not look away, even as Roam spoke up.

“Flynn Millard,” he repeated. “Your story has been burned. Your soul has been condemned to wander the Afterlife. It is the will of the people that you will not know peace.”

Millard said nothing and put up no resistance as he was hauled to his feet and dragged to the other end of the platform.

A rope awaited him.

Myra thought she might be sick. Turning away quickly, she started to push back through the crowd, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but in that square. She had hoped that maybe she would get a chance to see and perhaps talk to Mr. Roam before their meeting that night, but she found that she did not have the stomach to sit through this. The burning was bad enough. She couldn’t stand to watch the hanging.

She had almost reached the far edge of the crowd before she heard it.

*Creak*

*Whump*

*Crack*

A collective intake of breath from the crowd around her.

Myra pushed through the last of the people in front of her and sprinted off towards the festival grounds.

Anywhere but here. She thought as she raced away.